In open sight
by gothickbutterfly
Summary: Set after the end of the show. Contains material Mature content. Amon and Robin are investigating a new case about mysterious deaths of local children, and the ties it has to a sanctimonious priest.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Witch Hunter Robin (charaters, settings, etc.) does not belong to be.

Author's note: First and for most CONTAINS LEMON. This is my first posted fanfic.R&R. I hope you enjoy and I hope to have the second chapter up soon.

Endless Vacation 

Robin sat, eyes casually absorbing bits and pieces of the landscape flying by, as she gazed out the train window. It had been 5 years since she had left Italy. How things have changed. After the fall of the factory, she had tried to continue working for the STNJ, but the increasing guilt that chipped away at her with each hunt, not to mention attempts were still being made on her life. Yet not from Solomon headquarters, but from Zaizen, and his associates, as well as, countless other witches seeking her life in some twisted notion of capturing the title as the most powerful. For her well being, she traveled often and Father Juilano kept in touch with her, periodically wiring money. The constant travel plagued her at first, but now it was common place and enjoyable as long as it was considered a vacation. She wasn't the only one on this permanent vacation, Amon continued to be her ever-present watch dog, though she thought he was becoming a bit lax, and it was fine with her. She thought back to the day she first arrived in japan. The first time she saw Amon.

She noted her quickened pulse as she viewed a tall, dark haired man passing in the opposite direction. He intrigued her but it wasn't his look. It was his aura. It was dark, and omnipresent, and familiar, though, she knew no one in japan. She pondered it for a while as she sipped her espresso. She always had an unusual relationship with strangers. No ever approached her to casually make small talk or really acknowledge her presence at all. Did she look that unapproachable? She didn't bite, she wasn't hideously deformed...though some may construe it that way. She, at last, settled on it being not her appearance but her aura. What did her aura feel like to others? Did they even notice such things? She theorized that her aura was powerfully independent, and; therefore, not conducive because humans like to be depended upon. Whoever the man exiting the restaurant was, his aura was vast and dominant and he probably wouldn't find her hypothetically independent aura offensive, but what did it matter? She wouldn't see him again. it was just a chance meeting, on an errand to pass the time, until she could meet with someone named Amon.

The clack of the train against tracks pulled her back to the present. She smiled to herself, and wondered about his initial reaction to her. Her smile faded, and her thoughts turned to his current perspective of her. She looked over at him as if seeing him would somehow cast light on the gray subject. He was asleep in the burgundy seat across from her, jacket slung over him, acting as a make shift blanket. He still looked exactly the same, the past five years did nothing to weather his appearance.

"Bordeaux in ten minutes." the conductor called over the loud speaker, sharply cutting onto her thoughts. The next stop was theirs. She should probably wake Amon, but she really didn't want to. Not that she feared his morning mood or something like that. It was just that he looked so at peace with himself. When sleeping his forehead relaxed and gave his face an almost soft facade. She finally gave in and lightly shook his shoulder. "Amon, Amon it's our stop." she spoke in her slow and soothing manner. He than rose to gave his things, not that he had many. Travel didn't allow for many accutrements.

" I had no idea it would be so busy on a Tuesday afternoon." Robin stated aloud to no one in particular as they climbed the stairs that lead from the platform to the center of the dingy station. In all their traveling this was her first time in Bordeaux, actually she hadn't seen much of France at all. She had been either driving through or flying over, never staying anywhere. It would be nice to do a little site seeing since they would be here for a while. At least, she hoped they would, since they were here on business, sent by Juliano to observe Andrew Dupont. Andrew Dupont was bishop of St. Andre cathedral. He was relatively new to the position, only acquiring it about a year ago. Despite his inexperience, the church has swelled under his command. The mystery wasn't with the church or with the bishop, but in the coincidence of the unusual number of children, belonging to members of St. Andre, dying of quite normal causes. Juliano made reservations for them at a hotel, nearest St. Andre, on Paramount Ave. It wasn't the most luxurious, but it certainly wasn't the cheapest either. The outside was outfitted in gray brick, with large square windows, giving it a toothless effect. The interior was much more inviting. The lobby walls were bathed in amber,and the floor was a faux marble similar in color, casting a spherical atmosphere. Accents of violet, a chair here and drapes there, appeared as mere flicks against the monotony of amber. The concierge greeted them as the neared the front desk.

"Reservations for Lucio Bellack." Amon stated curtly. Juliano always created aliases that seemed to roll of the tongue in an unrealistic way.

" Oh yes, rooms 431 and 433." the concierge replied, his voice that holding a degree of thinness, while handing Amon the access cards. It was just like Father Juliano to book two rooms, but he didn't know otherwise. As they made their way toward the elevator, to go to their rooms, The concierge called,"Sir, i almost forgot. You have a message," holding out a large brown envelop.

Once in the elevator, Robin asked, " What is in the envelop?"

Amon was sure he knew what was enclosed in the envelop, but carefully open it and tugged on a corner of the unknown to confirm his suspicions. "Just some photos of St. Andre and Father Andrew Dupont."

"Amon?" she asked as she turned toward him, the sleeve of her coat brushing his.

"What is it,Robin?" he inquired still looking at envelop.

"Which room do you want?"

He peered at her out of the corner of his eye." I don't know, yet. We'll just have to see." an air of play in his voice.

The rooms, side by side, were almost identical, The television was hidden away in a maple armoire near a matching table and chairs. There was a overstuffed sectional adjacent the bar, and the bed, tall, with a clean rectangular frame, was centered in front of the wall of windows. The only variations that caused the rooms not to be mirror images was color and lighting . One room was teal with a better view and other was beige with bigger windows. They both agreed on room 431, the beige one, and if they tired of it they would take up residency in room 433.

" I'm going to take a shower." Robin announced after depositing her maroon suitcase, and black messenger bag in a neat pile by the door. She wasted no time, for she was loosing clothing the whole distance to the shower. Amon merely chuckled to himself, the alluring comfort of the bed summoned him. A nap might not be a bad idea, since sleeping on trains didn't really herald much comfort, that was if the sandman would allow. After collapsing on the bed, and a short stint of tossing and turning, he found that sleep was not in the cards. So instead, he contently inspected the room from his stationary position. It held that simple, but some how held the expensive atmosphere that business offices often had. He was sure he would tire of it quickly. Few things ever stayed constant in his life, other than the STNJ gig, which now was the past, but outlasted many other variables, rather like a large rock in a rushing river. The water eroding all that stays in its path, but larger rocks just take a little more time to break down. The only other constant, that stood the test of time, was his current travel companion. Robin always had been a special case. He continued to listen to the fall of water on tile surfaces in the next room. Robin. Juliano made an almost apologizing comment once about Amon being stuck with Robin on an endless road trip. The truth was that he never did anything he didn't want to, but it didn't seem appropriate to tell Juliano they have been lovers and cohorts since she was 17. Now at 20, she hadn't changed much, a little wiser and a little curvier.

Finally, Robin padded out of the steamy bathroom, humming to herself and drying her hair as she walked. The plush, white, complementary robe loosely clutching her narrow waist. The sun had retired for the day, but the room was just luminous enough to view silhouettes. She cautiously slinked over to where Amon lay, purposely, in the center of the bed. Not saying a word, she climbed on the bed and hovered over him, knees on both sides of his hips and hands over his shoulders. Leaning down she brushed her lips lightly against his, before teasing his mouth open, so her tongue could join his, mimicking some sensual archaic ritual . She, then, redirected her attentions to his jawline and throat. She was careful to maintain the distance between them, her mouth being their only conduit. She inhaled his musky earthen scent, pulling back so she could release the small plastic buttons of his navy tailored shirt. He observed her, deciding to proceed with a hands-off approach. She then resumed the feather-light flicks of her tongue down his chest , over his rib cage, and onto his stomach, stopping just short of the waist band of his course, slightly faded black jeans, to encompass the small space directly above his zipper with her mouth. She sucked at the firm flesh with fervent implication. She lifted her face, looking him directly in the eye, she confessed, " My only objection to travel was it never left much time for...us" He reached up and gasped her behind the knees, closing the gap between them "You should say what you mean," he replied flipping her over and assuming the man-on-top position. Her wet hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her, robe slightly open,allowing a slight peep show. "

"Travel doesn't leave much time for fucking." Her only reply was a giggle, she loved the passion present in the raw crudeness of the statement. She loved the vehemence promised in his voice.

She had provoked him, and he had indulged her by feigning subjugation, much like a beast before attack, but enough with waiting. He slipped his fingers gently beneath her robe via the slash of exposed flesh, not immediately seeking her breasts. He traced the outline of her body, but only what he couldn't see, careful not to uncover it. He withdrew his search party, and teased her nipples through, the now seemingly thick robe. Robin knew he couldn't be rushed, if he set his mind not to; but, she still sought to try. She made to unfasten his belt, to her surprise he allowed her. Then, she tried for jeans button, but he backed out of reach. She had expected as much, so she instead shed her own clothing, if it could be called that, in rebellion. Feeling triumphal, she gathered the robe and tossed it across the room.

"It seems you cannot control those idle hands of yours" with that he slid his belt from its loops with his left hand and attempted to hold her arms with the other. He only succeeded in pinning one above her head, so he abandoned the belt, moving his pursuits south. He glided his middle finger into her warm, quite wet pussy, slowly working it back and forth. He pressed a little harder with each pass until his finger was well coated in her essence.

"Don't stop." Robin said meekly.

"I will continue on one condition: You surrender your other wrist." She did as she was told, drawing her wrist up to join the other. Amon groped for the previously abandoned belt, and bound them tightly together. " Roll over," he instructed. She obeyed without question. She heard zipper movement and the rustle of denim. The bed sunk down behind her, and in anticipation she raised her ass to meet him, and he accepted, steadying himself before plunging into her depths. He hesitated a moment before delving again in her depths, a moan escaping her.

Breeeeeennng. Breeeeeennnng. 

Neither one moved, but the phone continued to ring. It had to be Juliano. Begrudgingly Amon took his leave of her to answer the villainous instrument of torture, "Amon...okay, we'll check it out."

Robin looked up at him, "So what did he want?"

"There has been another death."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Witch Hunter Robin doesn't belong to me.

**Hidden Objectives**

Despite the bad timing, it was nice to see Bordeaux's night scene. It was teeming with citizens and tourists alike, even in November. The lights from the shops, clubs, and restaurants fell and rippled on the expedient taxi as its reflection skimmed every window it passed. Robin wished she could be exploring all of the destinations that flitted by, instead of being ferried toward the grim task before them.

The morgue was housed within Charlemange Memorial Hospital, a bleak building befitting its inhabitants. It was simple, brick and plain, so much in fact, it appear generic. The only worthy attribute, of such an unpleasantly familiar location, was the clear directive signs. The medical examiner's office was located on floor B1, just a hall and a corner away from the elevator. According to the name plate on the door the medical examiner was Stan Wipfli. Even though, the door was slightly ajar, Amon rapped gently as the door fled his assaults. A middle aged man with sandy brown hair and an effeminate face looked up from his work while answering in tired, but polite voice, "Come in." His office was small and perfectly square. The walls were an off white and the furniture was faded. A half-dead fern lurked in the corner. The room was clean but had a washed out look that usually accompanied illness. The poor lighting did nothing for the room's appeal. The bile in her stomach rose thinking about spending long hours in this office. Amon noticed her grimace, but said nothing.

"Are you Stan Wipfli?" Amon asked, more out of confirmation than doubt.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" Stan replied with what would have been confusion had he not been exhausted. He took his glasses off his nose and whipped the lenses on his shirt.

"We are with the STNJ and would like to ask you a few questions," Amon said, showing Stan his badge. Stan nodded. Few people who knew the truth about Solomon, however almost everyone had heard rumors. Since they were no longer employed by the STN, Amon planned to use these nefarious rumors to his advantage,

Propping his right elbow on the desk, Stan asked,"What would you like to know?" He motioned to the seats in front of the desk, but both of them remained standing.

" A child was brought in this evening. Have your finished the autopsy?"

"I have finished the preliminary report." he dropped his gaze, "The child exhibited may symptoms that corresponds Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. So, I think it's safe to say that is the cause of death. Tragically I have seen several children lately."

"Have all the bodies been in the same condition?"

"No, some were worse than others, but all the deaths were sudden and occurred in the home."

"What time did tonight's body arrive?" Amon continued.

" About 7:30,"

"What is the estimated time of death?"

"The nanny said she laid the child to sleep at approximately 4:00 p.m. The mother checked on the child at 4:45 when she arrived home from work, and the child wasn't responding. After several failed attempts at resuscitation, the hospital pronounced the child officially dead at 6:00 p.m. So the estimated time of death is between 4:00 and 5:30."

Amon nodded, looked at Robin and then back to Stan,"May we view the body?"

They followed Dr. Wipfli into the cold, sterile autopsy room. The body, just a small bump under the standard white cloth, was on the table farthest the door. Robin readied herself as Stan slowly drew back the cloth. Viewing bodies didn't bother her; she being a hunter exposed her to a considerable amount of death and decay. This was different. This body was a small girl, who could have easily passed for a doll, with raven hair and porcelain features.

" Camille Cholmondelay, Age: 19 months, Height: 87 cm, Weight: 19 kg, Hair: black, Eyes: green..." Stan continued to spout information in a monotone canter that implied he had repeated this information many time, but she wasn't really listening anymore. Robin circled the table, viewing the body from different angle, finally stopping at Camille's feet.

"Amon, look at this." she said in a voice, just above a whisper. On the bottom of the girl's foot was a shapely bruise, which looked like a blobby X. "The stone axe," she gasped.

Amon turned abruptly to the medical examiner," Thank you for your time."

As they descended the stairs, Robin glancing back at the building asked, "What now Amon?" He watched her swinch her face up at the increasing chilliness.

"It's too late to do anything else tonight. In the morning, we will try to gather information on Father Andrew Dupont."

The sun was surprisingly bright as the midday light streamed through the stained windows. Robin smiled pleasantly, taking in St. Andre's grandeur. It looked nothing like the abbey she had left in Italy. Italy was too busy with the Renaissance to care anything about Gothic style, but she liked it none the less. She strolled to an empty pew on the right side near the middle, sitting a moment like a swimmer testing the water, before she knelt and clasped her hands in prayer. She wore her old black ensemble, though on this occasion her hair was free. She stood out but that was her intent. Finally, she spotted him watching her, but she kept her head bowed. He was about 5'8, with dark curling hair that was a little long for a priest. It covered a good deal of his forehead and poked out in random directions. His eyes a matte blue, turned down at the corners giving him the illusion he was looking into the sun. His nose was rather long and pointed, sitting noticeably high above his full lips. As she recited "Our Father..." she realized she hadn't prayed in earnest in quite some time. She used to pray every morning, but the reason she now neglected the practice baffled her. Among other things, the child from last night, swayed in and out of her thoughts. She didn't know that child. Maybe it was just because it was a child. Amon didn't seem affected. She didn't know how Amon felt about children. It was a topic that never came up in conversation, but at some point should have. She supposed it will eventual, yet she wasn't sure she wanted to know his views on the matter. She sighed and rose from the pew in resignation. Her gait small and careful, dress trailing behind her, as she quietly made her way toward the cathedral exit. There was a boy in robes standing by the door, fidgeting with something she could not see.

"Excuse me." she said her hands in her pockets as she leaned forward slightly. The boy, startled, turned to face her.

"Yes, May I help you?" His young face was wide-eyed with the intent to be useful. This amused her as she thought back to a time when she might have been seen in the same light.

"What time does mass start on Sunday?"

"10:45, Madam." his accent heavy as cream.

"And who is the priest?"

"That would be Father DuPont." the boy beamed, obviously fond of the Father.

Robin nodded in appreciation, and left the cathedral. Her work was done. Amon was parked in the rental car, a Renault Safrane, down the street, a couple of blocks. The car was a dull grey, and somehow conveyed a flatness. It didn't suit him.

"I think, in time, he will reveal himself." as she spoke her eyes gazed off at something in the distance.

"What makes you say that?"

"He was at the alter all morning acting like he was doing important things, all the while, watching to see who was looking. He seem to have a bit of an ego, so he probably will want to show of or brag to impress upon newcomers how powerful and influential he is. I didn't speak directly to him. Instead I asked a boy who was standing by the door a few basic questions. Despite not having communicated with him, I definitely caught his attention."

"Good. I think it is best to lure him out slowly."

" Amon?"

"Yes?"

"Can we get some breakfast now?"

The corner cafe was like so many others in France, small and family owned. This particular cafe seemed to cater to the morning crowd, given that it was only open from six to eleven. At the moment, it was filled with a moderate amount of people, pleasantly chatting. Amon had chosen a table next to the west-facing window. The interior of the quaint cafe was sparse. A few painting of the country side hung on bare brick walls. The floor was a surface that closely resembled Mexican tile, as for the rest; the wooden tables were paired with various mismatching chairs. Yet to Robin it a cozy, welcomed hiatus from the unspoken rules of wealthier establishments' rigid designs. Their waitress, Alain- as her name tag read, didn't speak English, but Amon knew enough French to order.

" Amon, I didn't know you spoke French. Where did you learn it?" Robin inquired with anticipation present in her soft voice as the waitress left the table.

Amon stared into his coffee, still swirling with crème. "I once lived in Marseilles when I was young."

"How long did you stay in Marseilles?" Though she had been with him quite some time, he hadn't revealed much about the past that pained him.

"Five years."

"Where did you go after those five years?"

"To London. To Solomon's Headquarters."

" So, you left because you were recruited?" She guessed.

He smiled, " Yeah."

" Of those years in Marseilles, who did you stay with?" She sipped the juice she order to go with breakfast, knowing this was starting to sound like an interrogation, but when would she get a more inviting opportunity.

"My mother's sister, Jeanette la Fleur."

"Your mother was French and your father was Japanese, but after they separated why did she remain in Japan?" She asked wide-eyed with comprehension.

" I don't know, I guess she had her reasons."

"How old were you when you left Japan?"

" Twelve." Robin nodded, contemplating the subject. Amon's mother knowing herself to be a seed was probably aware of Solomon's power at that time, and had her powers awakened in France or any other part of Europe she would have been hunted and killed immediately. At that time Japan was a haven for witches escaping persecution, much like themselves...


	3. Chapter 3

Sunday Afternoon

The autumn haze was rich and warm as the leaves outside danced on the wind in spiral eddies, like ballerinas in a music box. Robin went over the notes she made on the current case yet again. "The stone axe," she mumbled to herself while sitting in the center of the unmade bed, "is a symbol used during Inquisitions to awaken the witch's powers. So, was this girl a witch or maybe...she was a sacrifice?" She paused running the capped end of her pen across the bottom lip. As she did, a stray wisp of disheveled hair brushed her cheek. Disheveled hair like the unmade bed was noticed but disregarded. Her focus, which she fought hard to maintain, flooded out the window behind her that framed the hotel's entrance and a section of busy street. The scene below was almost photo-esque, dotted with miniature people and grand trees draped with deep rusty reds, brilliant yellows, and the occasional twinge of orange. France was all she wanted it to be. It breathed a vivaciousness that no there locale possessed. A smile crept across her face.

She should be trying to connect the fragments of their investigation instead of daydreaming. What would Amon think? Who cares what Amon thinks? But the question lost its luster shortly after conception because she sought his approval; however, she didn't think he would hold her restlessness against her.

She glanced over at the clock on the night stand-- 3:15. He should be back soon. He has spoken something of where he was going, but she had been too sleepy to comprehend. "Back to work, back to work." she chanted to herself. She grabbed her notebook and started to pace the room. "If there is a witch coven, power would dictate position in hierarchy. The more powerful the witch, the more prominent the position in the coven. So, maybe they were trying to initiate the children into the coven, but..." she stops pacing, her head slightly cocked to the side. "...it seems illogical for the coven to accept anyone who hasn't proven to, in fact, possess powers."

"It could be something similar to the Kurata case, where the witch absorbed other witches' power." A voice chimed in, she turned to look toward its origin. He was standing the frame of the door, watching her with a smile.

"I considered that too." speaking as she returned to the bed, to sit in the midst of the remote pieces of evidence. "However, wouldn't there be physical signs on the bodies, of decay, I mean?" Her voice sounding troubled. She sighed and gently laid her notebook in the floor. "Did you find anything while you where gone?"

"And if I did?" He mused, standing only a short proximity in front of her.

"I hope you would tell Me." she replied forced hostility playing in her voice, though never rising in volume.

" And if I don't?" he stepped closer, close enough now that she had to crane her neck to look him in the face.

She thought on it a moment, and decided, "If you don't tell me, I will sell you to the orbo factory."

Staring down at her, he replied in his usual fluid tone, "You would miss me too much."

She rested her forehead on his stomach, "You are probably right." So, are you going to tell me where you went earlier?

"I told you where I was going." though the words sounded harsh the tone was not.

"I was asleep." she reminded him.

"With Stan to La Garonne Lake. There was an incident last night, but interesting enough Andrew DuPont was there as well. I asked Dr. Wipfli's opinion of Father DuPont. According to him, DuPont is well respected,"

Robin broke in," Yes, I gathered that from the way the alter boy spoke of him."

Amon nodded, "Stan added though that he always seemed to him like a biblical ' false profit'. Against his better judgments, he introduced me to him as a psychic affiliate." he said taking a seat next to her at the foot of the bed.

Robin laughed softly. "You, a psychic, Amon?"

"He was just as eager as I had expected, he invited me to mass this Sunday. I think we should attend."

"Together or separately?"

"I think together would be best, considering you've spoken with him already, and if he thinks I am a psychic, he will naturally assume that you... that we are a team."

"Amon, how do you feel about religion?"

"Religion is vital to the human psyche because it fulfills a need to be secure."

"Is that your personal opinion?"

"Personally, I can't deny that some things can't be explained away."

"I knew you would say something like that."


End file.
